Frankie felt like the beach was the ideal place to have a serious conversation. It was neutral ground, but public enough that Harper was unlikely to cause a scene if she didn’t like what Frankie had done.
Frankie smiled and nodded as the conversation went on. Then Archie sat up and whined a little, giving her an excuse to take a break. She put her hat back on, then hopped out of her chair and held her hand out. “Sounds like he’s ready. Let me have his leash and I’ll take him for a walk.”
Harper looked up. “You’re sure? I don’t mind doing it.”
“Neither do I. Besides, I need to spend time with my dog-nephew.”
Harper and Prisha both laughed. Harper leaned back and wriggled the end of the leash free from the chair leg. “Here you go. That little container attached to the hand loop has poop bags in it. He can get his feet wet but not the whole dog or you’re bathing him.”
Amused, Frankie nodded. “Got it. Back in a bit. Come on, Archie.”
He gladly trotted alongside her.
She took him down near the waterline but not into the water. It was still a gorgeous day, even with the sun at its most intense. The breeze coming off the water made the warmth tolerable. Living here really must feel like a dream.
Archie looked pretty happy. His tongue was hanging out and his tail was up high. The seagulls kept their distance, casting dubious glances at him as they passed. He stopped to sniff whatever they happened upon. A piece of driftwood, a spiky green mangrove seedling, a broken clam shell.
There were bits of seaweed, too, but no trash. Not a single piece. Odd, Frankie thought. Almost every beach had some. Did Hideaway Bay pay someone to clean up their stretch of sand? It wouldn’t surprise her if they did.
Some ways up ahead, a man jogged toward them. He was fit, something easy to see, because he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Just blue nylon gym shorts, sunglasses, a phone strapped to one impressive biceps, and earbuds. He looked like something out ofBaywatch. Okay, maybe not that fit, but he was in good shape.
She squinted to see better. He looked oddly familiar. But the only person she knew in Florida was her sister.
Archie made a beeline for the man, jumping and eager to make a new friend.
The man smiled and came to a stop, crouching to pet Archie. “Hey, fella. How are you?” He ruffled Archie’s fur before looking up at Frankie. “What’s his name?”
“Archie. He’s my sister’s dog.”
“Hiya, Archie.” The man stood. “Are you new? I don’t think we’ve met before. I’ve only been here about a year myself.”
“We’re new, although I’m only visiting. My sister just moved into the Marshes’ old house.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Huh. I didn’t even know it was for sale.”
“It wasn’t.” Frankie instantly regretted her words. It wasn’t her information to share, really, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “She inherited it from Arlington Marsh. She worked for him.”
“I see,” the man said. His dark brows rose. “Quite an inheritance.”
“That’s for sure,” Frankie said. “I’m Frankie, by the way. Frankie Vaughn.”
The man gave Archie another scratch before pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head. “And I’m –”
She recognized him without the sunglasses. “Lucas Prime,” she said simultaneously with him.
He grinned, his smile brilliant white in the sun. “That’s me.”
He was what the kids would call an influencer. He was Insta-famous, as her daughter would say. Lucas Prime had made a name for himself with his good looks and his cooking skills in the kitchen. He’d even garnered himself a cookbook deal and the occasional appearance on television, but he’d gotten his start on YouTube and Facebook, cooking up a storm and getting tons of likes.
“Nice to meet you.” Frankie did her best not to be starstruck, but he was even better-looking in person than he was online. “I’ve made your foolproof jalapeno-honey chicken.”
He laughed. “Please tell me it really was foolproof or I’m going to feel awful.”
“It was good.”
“Did your husband like it?”
Her smile got a tiny bit bigger. “I’m divorced. No boyfriend, either.” Why had she added that? She almost groaned at herself for sounding desperate, which she wasnot. After Tom, she really wasn’t looking.
